The Ash Lady
by PrettyLittleHuman
Summary: Cinderella Fic AU. 5 Years have passed since Tyrion and Sansa's wedding. Peace Treaties are being drawn up to end war with the North. During this time, Cersei's childhood friend visits with her own children, and her quiet handmaid who is her deceased husband's bastard. King Joffrey soon gets an insulting idea for a peace offering: a bastard bride for a crippled lord.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

The Lannisters thought the marriage of Sansa Stark and their very own Tyrion Lannister would ensure the beginning of an unsullied reign that would surely last generations upon generations to come.

As the story goes, their pride went before their fall, and their arrogance was met with an unusual change of luck.

In the north arose an army, an army led by the Winterfell brothers Jon Snow and Brandon Stark. For after the long-awaited reunion of the young brothers, they sought to regain control of their invaded homeland and also to finish their late brother's conquest of northern independence.

With the influence of Jon Snow and some remembered kindness of Eddard Stark—the boys' father who had been a famous victim of the Lannisters' tyranny—hundreds of men from the Night's Watch took up arms against the southern kingdoms under the command of the elder brother. From then on, his loyal troops called him Lord Snow the Grand General of the North.

Much to the surprise of those in King's Landing, the army of the North triumphed down the Moat Cailin from the reclaimed Winterfell. Though Lord Stark was unable to join the battles, he had his own to attend to: gathering supporters and recruits. Some of the Night's watch who would not join the rebellion ran from Castle Black to become informants to the Lannisters in exchange for money and leniency. Yet despite these difficulties, the north still found many who would help oppose their enemies. Through the secret letters written by their sister Sansa, the found many friends in the north ready to stand by them, including their aunt the Lady Arryn.

From there they marched forth for the next 5 years of this bloody war, and were encroaching upon Casterly Rock when finally they received urgent news from the Lannisters urging a mutual cease fire for both armies in order to begin talks of peace.

The Northern Lords pushed the Southern Royals to name Lord Stark King of the North with General Snow as his heir should he himself not produce an heir, and furthermore, release Lady Sansa from her marriage to be safely returned to Winterfell.

There was much debate among the nobility of King's Landing; should they name Brandon Stark king and keep Sansa for their own insurance or annul the marriage and talk the northern brothers down to remaining lords in the north?

Queen Regent, Cersei, had soon formed a plan that she thought would win them back everything they'd lost. She sent word to an old friend who had two beautiful daughters of her own.

Oh, how was the Queen Regent to know she had also invited the ashen lady who would be the greatest turn of events for this war?

And who would perhaps fill her shoes?


	2. Chapter I Abaigael Hill

Chapter I  
Abaigael Hill

Within the palace, Queen Regent Cersei sat comfortably in her chambers awaiting the arrival of her friend. She heard her door opening, and turned to see her impish brother Tyrion.

"You missed today's war council." He said, nonchalantly walking over to pour himself a goblet of wine.

"I've been busy. I'm sure my son did very well without me."

"Yes, he did very well ignoring the reports of educated, experienced minds in favor of his own plan to-" He paused, irritation plainly etched on his face, "What was it again, 'Kill them all'?"

Cersei's face twitched slightly, "I'm sure the council had already been thinking the same thing."

"I'll tell you precisely what they were thinking, what we are _all _thinking." Tyrion walked over to her slowly, emphasizing his next words with every step, "That the King's Hand is being held hostage in his own home, our ties in Dorne are withholding their armies, that here in their homeland their bastards are starving while one in the North is about to be handed a kingdom-possibly this one."

He looked at his sister's stern face, her eyes looking distressed over these truths; Tyrion poured her a drink in attempt to soothe her anxiety. She took a long drink of the wine barely a second after it was poured. He went on,

"And all the while, the King keeps ordering in recruits we don't have, with money our dear father made certain we can't spare, chanting 'Kill them all!' to a strong army gaining more followers by the day."

"We have the Tyrells." She said, "We can afford more troops."

"And what shall we do with those troops? Keep sending them in until one side runs out? I don't know what game you think we are playing Cersei, _but we have no more cards!_"

"We _have _cards."

"Which ones, pray tell?" Tyrion asked sarcastically.

"Lady Theraesa Clegane." The Queen smiled.

"What does that bitch of a woman want now?"

"She is my loyal friend, Tyrion." She said sternly, "My friend who I've invited to the palace for a special visit along with her pretty, young daughters."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, "My dear sister, you do build up too much suspense. What are your plans?"

"I thought it would be obvious to you: two girls for two boys." The man's interest was piqued, "We cannot give them the North. However, those boys will not concede that without Sansa, who is our only insurance right now. So we offer them wives from our side as an act of peace. They are allowed to keep their lordships and lands with their bride's dowries, and then you and your _beloved _Sansa need not be parted."

"Breeding cows for peace. You've outdone yourself Cersei."

"It will work. We need not give up one thing for another and this war _will _end."

"And you don't think the Stark brothers will see this one-sided trade? You're asking them to disregard the sacrifices of their predecessors made for this cause all for petty titles that are merely your strings dangling above their heads-which _will _be seen as such by their men."

Cersei looked barely a hair away from an outburst.

"You always did manage to underestimate people, even those close to you. And speaking of which, how do you imagine Theraesa will feel about you selling off her children to a land she so detests-"

"Theraesa will do this because I command her! She is loyal to me and my family, and if I asked her to kill _she would!_"

Tyrion remained calm, though his eyes were somewhat saddened, "You reacted similarly when I sent Myrcella to Dorne. Told me you would not have her traded like a common whore."

She said nothing.

"I suppose it only counts when it's your own children."

He walked silently out of the room, leaving the still seething Queen to herself. She let out a scream and threw her now empty goblet across the room.

A few miles off from King's Landing there lay a small, but heavily guarded camp that bore the sigil of House Clegane; the three golden framed hounds were perfect symbols for the three, oft gold adorned members of the Clegane House.

Theraesa Clegane was the older cousin of The Hound and The Mountain, as well as the intimate friend of Queen Cersei since they were just little girls. She and the Queen shared a close bond partially due to their similar circumstances with marriage. Lady Theraesa had been shipped off at twelve to marry one of the lesser lords of Dorne, to whom she'd bore twin girls by the time she was fifteen. The marriage was widely known as being bleak at best, and it was also known that Lady Theraesa was less than pleased with her husband lavishing his ten bastard sons with wealth. After the death of the Mad King, and suspiciously when Cersei was in power, it became rumored that Theraesa's husband had lent troops to aid in the kidnapping of Lyanna Stark. The lord was immediately put on trial to answer for his crimes before the new King Robert Baratheon.

Let's just say, after the trial it became a local legend that Lady Clegane had had her husband hung… With his ten sons.

Strictly speaking, this rumor wasn't true as it was ruled by the court that death would be the penalty, but the people noticed how convenient it was that the "troops" sent in service to Rhaegar Targaryen included all the lord's bastards.

Being a young and still quite beautiful woman, it wasn't surprising that two years later Lady Theraesa remarried. Though she never bore him children her new husband, Lord Aaron of House Swyft, was satisfied with her two girls Casidhe and Breena whom he loved and spoiled like his own daughters. And with this happy marriage the rumors and stories about Lady Theraesa were forgotten.

That is until eight years later, when Lord Swyft came home from a long journey with his-at the time—seven year old bastard daughter.

Abaigael Hill.

When news reached the locals about the new development, the past rumors sprung to life again as fresh as they'd been all those ten years ago. And at the good lord's untimely death the next year, people feared what fate might befall the young girl.

To their surprise, and relief, the little girl was kept by Lady Clegane—even when she returned to her old estate—as a handmaid to her and her daughters.

For seven years after, Abaigael worked hard and spoke little as she lived and grew under the thumb of Lady Clegane. She grew to become a very beautiful fifteen year old maid in that time as well.

Although these Clegane women were all quite beautiful themselves, their famous feature being their deep hazel eyes, Abaigael looked little odd juxtaposed to them. For they all had lovely long black hair, with the twins having Dornish sun-kissed skin from their father, and Lady Clegane having fairer colored skin with rosy cheeks. However, the young girl bright green eyes, light blonde hair, and pale skin. She was a good girl though, very loyal to all three of the Clegane women.

On this day, the young maid struggled uphill with a bucket of fresh river water for Lady Theraesa Clegane. Upon seeing this, the girl's friend River immediately came to her aid. River, like Abaigael, was a bastard-born girl who managed to find work in the Clegane House as a kitchen wench. She had dark brown eyes and hair, and was called River because her mother from the Riverlands refused to give her a first name thinking it would hide her illegitimate origins. This left her with only her bastard surname: Rivers.

"Thanks." Abaigael said.

"Lady Clegane's demandin' another beauty treatment is she?"

Abaigael nodded, "Just for her hair, and besides she only wishes to look nice for the royals."

"She'd probably look a lot nicer if she'd stop puttin' that stuff in 'er hair."

Back in Dorne, Lady Theraesa was told somewhere about a trick to hide grey in black hair. The treatment involved almost daily application of heated ink and oil on dampened hair. The grey hairs were made invisible but the lady was forced to set her hair in elaborate styles to hide its stiff, crusty texture in the evenings. Once or twice, Abaigael wondered if the real reason she used the treatment so often was because the metal comb used to apply the heated liquid would usually burn her fingers a bit.

"Did you 'ear? The Northerners were spotted by King's Landing."

"No they weren't." Abaigael laughed slightly.

"They were, I say!" River insisted, "A rider headin' west told me so. Said he's never seen a man so pale, and dark eyes too-so dark, 'e said, you could see all his sins on the battlefield reflected in his eyes, An' e' was nearly seven feet tall on horseback!"

"Well, now I know you're mistook. Everyone knows the Northerners are already seven feet tall on foot, therefore they must be at _least _fifteen feet on top of a horse."

"An' how are they winnin' then? They come as a surprise to our men, how can they be a surprise when they travel fifteen feet high on heavy horse?"

"They don't travel on horses, not all of them at least." Abaigael shuddered as she recalled the tales, "They travel with dire-wolves. Big as a man they say! They're white as their snowy homeland, so our men can't see them running forth in a storm until it's too late."

"Do you think they ride the dire-wolves?"

She shook her head, "They don't need to. They're just as fast as the wolves, I heard."

River laughed, "Perhaps they dine upon deer just like the dire-wolves-"

"Please don't say that! I've nightmares enough for a lifetime about them already; I'd be glad never to meet a Northern man in my life."

"Well, we may just meet a Northern Lady though. Remember, Lady Sansa was from Winterfell. I heard she looks more like a Tully though, so I guess we'll never know what the Northerners look like."

With a small sigh at her friend's antics, Abaigael took full charge of the bucket and headed inside Lady Clegane's tent.

The makeshift room was yellow and a small, with a piling of thick sheets and pillows to create a temporary bed in the corner. A full mirror with a chair in front stood in the back with a small old table beside it. Upon the table were several different containers of powders, creams, and blushes and beside them was a small water basin and cloth for face cleaning-into which Abaigael poured the water. There was also a second, smaller basin suspended over a lit candle and held a metal comb immersed in thick black liquid.

"Mi'Lady." She greeted with a quick bow.

Lady Clegane gave a stern, almost skeptical look to the girl, "What kept you?"

The maid tried to answer as she squeezed the wet cloth from the basin, but was interrupted by her lady's self-important tone.

"Nevermind, I _know _what kept you already." She dipped her head back as Abaigael ran the cloth through her hair, "That kitchen girl was filling your head with outlandish stories about those Northern brutes, wasn't she? Filthy beasts, all of them, one thing I can tell you is true girl are those dire-wolves. Little mutts will bite you in a second just like they did to his Grace, King Joffrey."

Abaigael replied in a tone barely rising over a whisper, "Yes, Mi'Lady."

Lady Clegane gave a final nod, allowing the continuation of her beauty treatment. The poor girl winced and bite her lip as her already calloused fingers met the burning sensation of the inked metal comb. Thankfully, it cooled after a few minutes of use so the pain wasn't there for long. Towards the end, as Abaigael finished setting her lay's hair, the woman had took hold of her right hand dragging her to sit at her feet.

She gazed at Abaigael's bowed head, paying no mind to the fact that her eyes were tightly closed. She lifted up the girl's face in one hand, turning it from side to side as if to examine it.

"Wash your face." She commanded in slight disgust, wiping her hands on the spare cloth, "After that, help Lady Casidhe and Lady Breena dress."

Abaigael opened her eyes, going to leave for her task, "Yes, Mi-"

In what seemed like a second, Lady Clegane had slapped Abaigael and caused her to fall to the ground. The girl cried out for a but a moment as Lady Clegane angrily wiped her hands again with the cloth.

"What have I said, _bastard?_" She seethed.

"I'm sorry, Mi'Lady!"

"Go!" the maid bowed her head as she hurried to get up, "And if I see anymore ash on your face when we see the King, I will have you whipped harder than those dire-wolves could ever bite!"

Abaigael rushed out of the tent and down to the river where she fell to her knees weeping. Quietly, she cursed herself, for being so stupid and careless. Her tears softened as she let her hands soak in the water, suitably warm from the sun, and then gently washed away the ash on her cheeks. With another deep breath, she hurried off to fulfill her duties to Lady Clegane's daughters.

Abaigael walked through the entrance of the yellow tent to find the two ladies with four of their maids.

Casidhe, the eldest, stood tall in front of the mirror (identical to the one in her mother's tent) smoothing away non-existent stray hairs from her face. She'd done her hair up in elaborate braids that fell down her back. She wore a golden, butterfly patterned gown with long flowing sleeves and fabric roses lining her modest neckline.

Lady Breena, sat looking impatiently at the yellow dresses presented to her by each of the maids. When she saw Abaigael enter the room, her rosed cheeks plumped up as she smiled slightly.

"Finally!" she said, "Girl, which of these gowns suits me best?"

Abaigael looked briefly at the gowns, knowing that Lady Breena always hated yellow and always preferred red to amplify her skin tone, "Whichever pleases you Mi'Lady, you look well in everything."

Breena gave a self-satisfied smirk to the exasperated looking maids, "See? Even a bastard knows that whatever _I _say is best."

"Please Mi'Lady, your mother is most insistent that you wear these colors before the court."

"If you wish to explain to my mother why my cold, dead body is wearing these colors as opposed to my usual living self then be my guest." She scoffed as the poor maids looked to each other for guidance, "Go away now. My sister and I need someone with _taste_ for this debacle ."

There was an almost immediate sigh of relief from the retreating girls when they were dismissed. One girl gave Abaigael a brief look as if to say, "Good luck." After all, this wouldn't be the first time Lady Breena was difficult with her clothes.

But when the other maids left, Breena leapt from her seat grinning and ran over to give a warm, tight hug to her step sister. Abaigael smiled too, shyly hugging Breen back in her usual gentle way.

"Can you believe it Nabby? We're finally going to see King's Landing!"

"Well we won't be seeing anything if you don't get dressed." Casidhe said, finally away from the mirror, "Or are you so determined for the entirety of the King's court to see your corset?"

Casidhe gave a playful smile to a now blushing Abaigael, gave her a gentle hug and a brief kiss on the cheek that caused the poor girl to wince in pain. The hazel-eyes lady looked confused until she noticed her little sister's reddened left cheek.

"Mother's in one of her moods again." She sighed, "Well, we can't have you looking like that for the Royal Family can we? Come, we'll put a little rouge on the other one and no one will know the difference."

"Oh please don't!" Abaigael panicked, "If Lady Clegane sees any of that on my face she'll have me whipped for sure!"

"No she won't. Sit." Casidhe rested herself into the chair and guided the girl to sit at her feet, "Mother may threaten now, but she won't do anything now, not while we're being watched by the court. The people doubt our King, and it is the duty of our House to help in any way we can. In this case, we must try to be in our best looks, and that is not displayed well by the beating of handmaids."

"Who taught you that, sister?" Breena asked, picking out a red gown, "It clearly wasn't mother."

The elder sister turned back to applying rouge onto the youngest girl's face, "But you must keep your wits about you all the same. Queen Cersei is just as bad as mother, Nabby. No matter what, _you must always do exactly as they say_. Do you understand?"

Abaigael nodded once.


	3. Chapter II Red and White

Chapter II  
Red and White

*~*_Abaigael_*~*

Sweet Casidhe had been right about Lady Clegane not punishing me for wearing the rouge. However, I sat by the river in fear she wouldn't forget her threat of another whipping and was simply waiting for the right time. I found solace though, patiently waiting by the water for the guards to pack up the tent.

I knew I had a few minutes to myself, as Lady Clegane never allowed me to touch her things—unless it was a beauty treatment—so I knew I wouldn't be called to help her dress or set her hair. And Breena and Casidhe were always too busy with their other maids to call on me for help.

So I when I was sure no one was looking, I smiled and hastily removed my threadbare shoes then leapt up to start dancing!

I start with pointing my right foot toward the water, with my other foot crossed behind my back like I'd been taught to always do when starting a dance. I look down at my pointed foot and see my father's red mark on my big toe, small but noticeable when uncovered. I've loved dancing ever since I was a little girl, and asked my mother why I had the mark.

"Red is a passion color." She said smiling, "Your father has it on his sword hand, and he inspires a passion for war. You'll inspire passion with your feet."

So mother decided then that I would be a dancer.

I only understand now that she was half inspired by my constant frolicking around the brothel where I'd been born and raised since, and had a bad habit of jumping around the halls at night and almost waking everyone else before she put me back in bed.

The Madame there was known to all of us as a great patron of the arts. She often used most of her share from the brothel to furnish the rooms with grand paintings that were sometimes half the size of the wall! Or she bought pottery, or statues, or any other lovely thing. Early in the morning, before any work, she forced everyone into her personal sitting room to pass around the book of her choosing-to anyone who could read, and we all sat for a chapter or two to listen. She told us it was a favor, "culturing us" was how she put it.

So when mother requested that some of her salary taken for room and board there also be used for my dancing lessons, The Madame was absolutely thrilled that her teachings had made an impact on Mother.

The first part of the lessons were called "Posture," as she said,

"A dancer is graceful, flexible, and disciplined." She gave me a hardened look when she caught me looking out the window at something as opposed to paying attention, "But one at a time." She'd hissed slightly.

For the next six months, I'd be called into her private rooms every morning—after the daily readings—where she would be standing at the center of the room beside a tall bench with a wooden dancer's bar (that's what she called the drying rack-like contraption) set much higher up in front. Then she had me grab the bar as I hung off the side of the bench by my heels. It would make my toes pointed, she said. And I would stay in that uncomfortable position for half the hour before being allowed to come down. After that, she would put me up against a wall, making certain everything from the back of my head to the back of my heels touched the wall for another half hour. If I so much as twitched from the position set for me, I'd regret it, for when my shoulders sagged front she pushed them back with her long-nailed hands until I kept them there myself. Or if my chin dropped even the slightest inch, she'd slap my chin back to its original place.

The Madame's slaps seem to be light taps compared to Lady Clegane's angry strikes. Yet even those were nothing compared to the whip that taught me a very important lesson in her house: silence.

The first time had been when I was nine, almost a year after father's death. I had looked her in the eyes when I delivered her breakfast tray and she threw a fit as I tried to apologize for forgetting her rules. She called in Ser Polleck, her head guard, and commanded him to take me outside in the woods standing a few paces from the house and whip me until I bled.

I remember the sick and horrified feeling I got when she emptied her goblet of wine, and handed it to Ser Polleck to collect my blood as proof of his obedience.

He brought me deep into the woods so the outdoor servants wouldn't hear. I began to cry as I saw him unravel the whip from his belt. But just as I thought he had been prepared to strike, he fell to his knees and lamented that he could not do it and would pretend he had for my sake. He told me to wait there while he went deeper into the forest to find some animal to bleed for Lady Clegane's proof. I waited patiently, scared to move as I heard the rustling of bushes every moment and feared what lay behind them. He returned though, having a full goblet of blood in one hand and his cloak in the other, which he told me to put on to sneak down into the servants' quarters.

Lady Clegane said nothing for a few days; though I'm sure she never once thought I had actually been whipped. I always wore a black servants' dress that covered my back, so I thought for a while she'd be none the wiser.

I was wrong though, for one day she grabbed me by the shoulders and tore down the shoulder piece to see my untouched skin. She decided to whip me herself that very hour, fetching father's old short whip from the closet used to protect his things. I screamed so loudly a few maids and guards, Ser Polleck as well, had run in thinking Lady Clegane was in danger.

She strode over to him right after to place the whip in his hand, and simply stated,

"You will beat her when I ask, so _I'll _not do it harder."

He only nodded before she left to go and check on Breena and Casidhe, then left himself to fulfill his duties in the house. A few of the maids helped me downstairs to let me rest in my bed for a while after cleaning my wounds.

The next few days were the most humiliating moments I'd ever experienced in my short life. For when adding to the pain still stinging my back, whenever I walked the halls to do my chores or fulfill a task assigned me, I'd see both the maids and guards giving me strange looks that weren't always out of pity. I didn't understand it, and I just wished they would stop looking at me and reminding me of the even I had been trying so hard to forget. I started finding shortcuts and other methods to attempt to get by unseen by them while doing my duties.

Worse yet, I could not dance for two weeks because my back hurt so much, and I cried the night I realized that.

Dancing is my only escape, my only reminder of my mother and the happy times we shared when I insisted on showing a new step I'd learned (when I did start learning them that is). To this day, I twirl and hear her laughter again. I kick up and leap only to land on the ball of my foot gracefully as I hear her doting claps ring in my ears.

If she were still alive, I would always rush over to where she sat watching me and make her join in.

Lady Clegane had robbed me of that, and still does sometimes, thankfully no more than twice a year.

I wondered as a child, why does she hate me when I've done nothing but try to please her? I hadn't understood at the time how badly looked upon bastards like myself were. I wanted so much to hate her, but whenever I began to grow angry I'd reproach myself. I must love her for my father's sake. And she has done me a kindness in giving me two grand sisters like Breena and Casidhe, whom I'm allowed to be around often-even if it is to serve.

She does often "force" me on them to keep me away from her when she'd fed up. In that case, I could almost love her for hating me so.

I would never tell my thoughts to even my sisters though, I've learned my lesson of silence and intend to practice it. And despite their care and devotion, I fear they might love me less if I said anything. Silence is best in these circumstances.

And in the spirit of fairness, I did retrieve my dancing skills again after those terrible two weeks. I danced all night in the empty servants' quarters to the point where no one would've had to clean, as my feet had gathered all the scattered dust and ash from the fireplace in the corner.

Now that I look back on that particular memory, I should probably stop dancing and wash my feet before we go.

I put my muddied feet into the river and rub them against the stones sitting at the bottom, as well as using my hands to clean away the dirt. I finish just in time to hear Ser Polleck announce our departure, and run to the now disassembled camp after putting my shoes back on. I see River sitting in the luggage cart and beckoning me forth. Just as they start to pull out I manage to hop in next to her.

On the way to King's Landing, she tells me more stories of the North and I begin to laugh at her new tale where she tells me of Northern men who transform into wolves.

"An' they shed their clothes as their bodies are slowly covered with fur! Their teeth sharpen into fangs and their hands turn to paws!"

"So these pale, dark-eyed giants turn into giant hounds during a full moon?" I laugh disbelievingly, "They must be as big as a direwolf!"

"You're not 'earin' me!" She insisted, "I said they turn _into_ the direwolves!"

I laugh harder until I see her give me a look and instantly feel terrible, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be mean, I'm sorry."

"Eh, don't be sorry. I know these stories are a bit odd."

"I like them though." I say encouraging her, "As you can see they make me laugh… Will you tell me more?"

River seemed to consider for a moment before she continued, "They say you can tell which ones are wargs-that's what they call 'em, see? They spend lots of time around other wolves when there's no moon, just as all the other Northerners do."

I nod for her to keep going.

"Another thing is, they'll seem to know your secrets. Things you've never told a soul! But there is one sure fire way to know when you find one." Her voice lowers to almost a whisper, "When their eyes change."

"Change to what?" I ask, now intrigued.

"Blank. Completely white as a moon, shows the wolf in 'em they say. But by the time you're sure it's a wolf inside a man, it's too late."

"Why?"

By now her voice is low enough only for me to hear, her dark eyes suddenly seeming much darker, "Cause, dear friend, it's only a split second before the transformation begins. On any other night, see, they have to force themselves to change if they want. But on a full moon they're feral and vicious, got no choice neither 'bout the change. So when they change, you got no time to run. An' the few that escape an attack are haunted by those eyes. Imagine what its like for those eyes to be the last thing you ever seen on this earth…"

Suddenly, her eyes squint for a moment and look blank! I scream once before I hear her laugh and realize she'd just been rolling her eyes back. I have to catch my breath as she pats my shoulder jokingly.

"Come on, that was funny!"

"It was not!"

"What's gong on back there?!" We both freeze at Lady Clegane's shrill voice, then turn to Ser Polleck riding beside our cart.

"Nothing, My Lady, carry on." He gives us a warning look before riding further ahead.

I look to see a smirking River, and soon I feel myself smiling and we start laughing in hushed tones.

*~*_Narration_*~*

The noble party arrived a whle later, Abaigael and River spending the time with some mending their shoes in the cart. When they came through the gates of King's Landing, a few turned from their work to gaze at the lovely Clegane women.

Casidhe adorned in bright clothes that made her bronze skin almost shimmer like the golden belts and bracelets she wore.

Breena wore a dark, rose read gown that had no sleeves and shall we say, showed off her more feminine features. She liked anything red and slimming, as she felt her most attractive then, and also loved to disobey her mother's requests when she could-refusing to wear house colors when greeting hosts or guests was among her favorites. But to please the royalty, she thought it best to wear her black hair like the other southern ladies there.

And Lady Theraesa rode through just as elegantly dressed, her hair pulled up like her younger daughter's though decorated with gold clips and pins. She was one of few women who could look well in the bright yellow gown she wore, which was heavily trimmed with gold silk and pearls sewn on.

They all rode in with their heads held high as they were followed by their plainly dressed servants. The men, at least the unkinighted ones, wore dark shaded clothes and had good, sturdy boots made for hard labor. The women were dressed in similar colors—or rather a lack thereof—but were less lucky in the case of footwear. For they were made of nothing but fabric and flimsy ties, so the shoes needed to be mended often, just as the girls had been doing in the cart. The women also used old strips of rags to tie back their hair or used bigger pieces to completely cover their heads.

Lady Clegane insisted Abaigael fully cover her hair when they left for King's Landing, not wanting her blonde hair to distract from herself or her own daughters. Not everyone would be fooled by this though.

When they approached the palace steps, they were greeted by the royal family, most of them anyway. King Joffrey stood center, smiling his usual sadistic smile with his wife Margaery by his side. To their left, Queen Cersei and Lord Tyrion, whom upon seeing the richly adorned party whispered to his sister,

"If we stripped them of all those pricey silks and décor, we could pay for this war twice over."

Cersei told him to hush up and turned a kind smile onto her friend Theraesa, who dismounted along with her daughters then hurried to bow before the king. The servants followed suit, and though he did not understand why at first, Tyrion's eyes immediately found Abaigael. He was ready to disregard her before noticing her movements, the soundless steps she'd made and a curtsy far too graceful for a servant girl. Another curious thing was that she seemed to be inspecting the cobblestone ground for something, and not even "inspecting" in the way one mght when trying not to look at something they shouldn't.

"Your Grace." :Lady Clegane greeted, "It gives me great pleasure to see you and your family in health."

"Thank you, My Lady." Joffrey said, "My wife and I are in perfect health, aren't we My Dear?"

"Of course, My Love." She answered dutifully, "I see the war has not affected your health either Lady Clegane, I'm glad to meet you and your daughters in the peak of health."

Joffrey nodded, "Yes, I'm afraid though _some _of my family could not _attend _this meeting due to some silly excuse or other."

"I apologize, Lady Clegane." Tyrion explained, "My own wife, the Lady Sansa, was taken ill this morning and sends her welcome through me."

"And I'm sure to meet her at dinner tonight, I hope."

"Of course, My Lady." The king said, "You'll meet my brother Tommen as well; he's in practice now, finally bring taught some strength."

"And you ought to be with him then." Tyrion said.

The boy-king turned to look at his uncle with a seething glare, and was about to say something before Breena spoke up.

"I'm sure he's training to be a grand fighter, Your Grace. Though, I'm sure even _he _cannot compare to your own skill and courage."

Joffrey turned back to face her and smiled a bit, "Sweet words, My Lady. Which one are you?"

"Lady Breena, Your Grace." She curtsied with a sly smile.

"If it please, Your Grace, I'd like to spend some time with the Lady Theraesa." She smiled again at her friend, "For we have so much to catch up on."

The king looked back and forth between the two older women, then shrugged, "Fine. Do what you wish, Mother. My Lady and I will be sure to make her daughters comfortable, and the rest of you-"

He turned to the guards and servants, waving his hand briefly in a shooing gesture, "Find your own way to your proper places."

They all nodded in compliance then went their separate ways, including the royals. Abaigael and River walked behind the rest of the servants, taking in the palace's grand sights before River gasped at a dark-haired man she'd run into by accident. He was just like she'd heard the rider describe the Northerner he saw (and she realized, this must be the same man), right down to the white wolf trotting beside him.

"Sorry." He murmured "Excuse me" briefly before going about his business.

River smiled, excited that she'd finally seen a Northerner! She turned to express her joy to her friend, but saw Abaigael's eyes widened in fear.

For when they stumbled upon the strange pair, she had not been looking at the man but the wolf, and for the briefest moment she saw no pupils nor color in the wolf's eyes. But only the blank white as River described.


	4. Chapter III Negotiations

Chapter III

Negotiations

After the introduction in court, Cersei and Theraesa strolled happily into the Queen's chambers, smiling like they were young girls again. The sun brightly shone through the windows and arches overlooking the balcony, illuminating the red wine set and poured atop the small table in the center. The elder woman, Theraesa was seated first and took hold of her goblet, "It's been too long Cersei." She said, "Seems we only get to see each other when our men are off killing. Speaking of, I hope you're not working my little cousins too hard."

"They do their part loyally. I should think you'd be proud."

"Yes, be wary though, little sister. Mountains crumble and hounds need meat."

"Just like a bitch withers away with age."

Theraesa laughed, a good hearty laugh along with Cersei, "Ah yes, but then again so do lionesses." She gave the younger woman a knowing smile, "Cat or dog, it's the one who carries the next generation who lasts longer; the ability to take pain is greater. Besides, hounds are killed when they're too difficult, while a bitch is kept around to 'wither away' or until it can't care for another brood."

The Queen smiled, "A woman's best weapon lies between her legs."

"Tutor Caillot was certainly a wise woman." She replied, "Let's not quibble any longer. We've other matters at hand, pressing ones, like why I was invited here in the first place."

"I've invited you here to end this war."

"Well, since we know steel and bronze are not my colors, I assume you have better plans in mind. Perhaps you have finally decided to join our houses, have you brought us here to wed Casidhe to Tommen?"

"You know me better than that."

"I do." Lady Clegane's face fell into a frown, "I know you're ambitious. I know how ruthless you can be when pushed. _What do you want?_"

The Queen's confident smile remained, "To marry both Casidhe and Breena to the Stark brothers."

Lady Clegane paused, nodding her head slightly, "Well, you're to the point."

"The Starks have power, too much, and it needs to be reined in. Rest assured, even after this is done your daughters will be well taken care of."

"And which would marry which?"

"Casidhe will marry the elder Jon Snow and Breen will marry Brandon Stark."

"So my eldest marries the bastard and the secondhand?"

Cersei pursed her lips, "If you wish Breena to marry the bastard and Casidhe to marry the Stark boy-"

"Now she's married to the cripple." She gave her friend a hard glare, "You've given me some very poor options for my girls, Your Grace."

A sadistic smile ran across the Queen Regent's face, "Would you rather them beheaded or hung?"

"Is Joffrey going to do that? I assumed he'd like to… _play _with Brena first." Lady Clegane smirked, "You see, I heard he likes to dangle his toys a little before he kills them."

"Ah, so you're aware of your little slut's intentions. Did you put her up to that?"

She shrugged dispassionately, "My daughter does as she pleases. It would seem that now what pleases her is what _pleases _Joffrey."

"What would please him is to _end_ this war!"

"The send your own daughter to the North! Apparently her presence is doing nothing in the South."

A knock resounded.

"What?!"

Slowly and carefully, four young maids entered, their heads lowered in respect. Abaigael, one of the girls, stood beside River with her blonde fallen out of the dark cloth used to cover it. Cersei looked at them all impatiently as she waited for explanations.

"Would you like some food to be sent forth, Your Grace?" One of the palace maids asked.

"No, we're fine."

"Abaigael." Lady Clegane called sternly, "Come forward. Now."

She stepped forward dutifully, her eyes still lowered as she was carefully examined by Lady Clegane who beckoned her to come closer. Finally she was standing right beside her seated form. The woman grabbed Abaigael's wrist, nails digging into her flesh painfully so, her hazel eyes scrutinizing her like one might a vase that might need dusting.

"What have I told you about your hair? _You keep it tied and covered_." She seethed, finally releasing the girl's hand, "And c_lean your face_. It's filthy again and I won't abide my servants covered in ash in front of royalty."

"Yes and I'm sorry, Mi'Lady." The girl said, holding back a whimper of pain.

"Good." She said, pushing her back towards the other handmaidens, "You may put my servants to use however you wish, girls. Just go I'm sick of the lot of you."

The all turned to the Queen for permission to leave, promptly answered with a harsh nod of her head. The curtsied and muttered their farewells dutifully as they left in great haste for the door. Once gone, Queen Regent gave an annoyed and questioning look to Lady Clegane who only shrugged her shoulders once, taking a sip of her wine after.

"You _will _have both your daughters married to the Stark boys, Theraesa. Don't think for a _second _that you can do better-"

"Than having one take a bastard's name and the other to be eventually _widowed and childless?_ I do." Theraesa said, "That little cripple needs the Snow boy more than he even knows, because he can't produce an heir to his _supposed _throne. And even is by some _miracle_ he manages it, do you really think that Northborn bastard will simply wait for his line to succeed his the Stark's? Do you even think he'll wait for that's boy's grotesque to grow?"

"Jon snow may be an illegitimate mutt but he would never harm a baby."

"Like your son would?"

"We are not discussing my son, _your king!_ We are discussing _your _daughters!"

Lady Clegane smirked, "Seeing how at least one of my daughters may be birthing his bastard before she does a Stark's I'd assumed we were."

* * *

Down the halls, the two palace handmaidens towed along River and Abaigael who, since seeing the eyes of the wolf, had done her hardest to forget the morning run in with the Northern man.

_It was just a trick of the light_, she kept telling herself, _River's stories are just scaring me. Still, those haunting blank eyes. How could it be true though?_

Her mother would tell her to follow her instincts, listen to the stories and pay them heed. But her father would say it was a mistake, agree that it was a trick of the light. Had it not been for the fairly clear image of those eyes, that excuse might've been easier to convince her of it.

The task of forgetting had been made harder by River's earnest regaling of the incident to her and anyone else in earshot. She didn't believe Abaigael when she claimed her fright was due to the largeness of the wolf, so she decided to focus on the man instead.

"I wonder what he's doin' 'ere." She said as they followed along the two handmaidens, "'Specially when the royals are 'avin' guests. Do you think he's here for a meeting or somewhat?"

Abaigael shrugged.

"Come on Bai, say somethin'! When's the next time _we'll _be seein' a real Northerner in the flesh?"

"You will be seeing him quite often now." The head maid said, "That man you're speaking of is Eddard Stark's bastard, Jon Snow."

Both girl's eyes widened, until the little blonde maid breathed out, "The Grand Lord and General of the North?"

The maid stopped them all in their tracks with a look that could've melted ice, "You will use no such titles here girl. You should know better than to go around using names made up by those Northerners."

"Leave the girls alone." The dark-haired maid said, her accent confusing the Clegane maids by its strange, foreign tone, "There's no harm in a name. Besides, they were only curious."

The maid turned her glare on the woman, taking River by the arm. "Well let's train that curiosity on how they can do their job." She said, "I'll take this one to prepare our the guest rooms, and you take that one to attend Lady Sansa."

River only had time to look briefly at her friend before she was dragged off. Abaigael stared at the two, nervous at being left with a stranger so much she gasped when she felt a gentle hand touch her shoulder.

"Don't worry she'll be fine." She said kindly, "Come now."

"What is your name?"

"Shae. And you're Abaigael, yes?" the girl nodded, "You're going to help me attend Sansa today. I've served her for many years, and that means you follow my instructions unless she says otherwise, do you understand?"

Abaigael had to shake her head out of her brief confusion before she nodded again, "Yes."

"Good."

"You call Lady Sansa by her given name?"

"Yes." Shae replied, "Sansa is very kind. You'll do well to remember that."

"She must be, for you to be so loyal to her." Abaigael smiled.

The handmaids walked further down the hall before finally coming to a door where to heavily armed men of the King's Guard were posted. They each looked suspiciously at Abaigael until one asked Shae who she was.

"She's Lady Clegane's handmaiden. She's assisting me now." She said firmly.

One last look from the guards addressed them before they were allowed to enter. The room was the usual, lovely stone chamber that was decorated like a lady's private quarters. However, Abaigael noticed that there was no balcony like the other room, and the only source of light was a small window in the corner.

The beautiful, red-haired Lady Sansa had been sitting quietly at her desk writing, only to immediately sit up when the girls entered. She looked rather startled, and even Abaigael saw the protective hand she had placed over her papers upon the desk.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"Abaigael Hill, Mi'Lady." The girl curtsied with a respectful smile.

Sansa looked between her and Shae before clearing her throat, "Please then, go and clean the floors now."

Abaigael nodded, quickly going about her task. When she found the wash bin set for cleaning in the next room however, she found it empty and had to fill it. She came to the door in time to see Lady Sansa handing Shae a piece of paper, and heard the name "Jon" uttered along with it. Both women turned to her, the Lady seeming almost terrified and Shae suddenly suspicious. Though she did not fully understand what she'd just witnessed, Abaigael turned scared at the thought of her being punished for the accident just as she would have been at the Clegane estate.

Her hands, which held the wash bucket, shook as she barely managed to murmur loud enough, "There is no more water, Mi'Lady. Shall I go fetch more?"

"No." She said instantly, "Shae will get it. You, will, brush my hair."

Both maids nodded. Shae took the bucket from Abaigael's hands, still looking a little suspicious of the girl, then left the room. Lady Sansa sat quietly at her vanity as the handmaid walked over reaching for the pristine brush that rested there.

"What's wrong with your hands?" She asked, almost frightened.

The girl knew she'd caught sight of her blistered and scarred fingertips, freshly aching from Lady Clegane's morning beauty treatment. She closed them around the brush to hide their hideous form.

"It's nothing, Mi'Lady." She went to brush her hair but Lady Sansa flinched away.

"But are you ill? Why do they look like that?!"

Abaigael felt a small amount of rage simmer up inside her. She didn't often get angry with people, but sometimes when pushed her father's famous trait for 'moods' came up. Unlike him though, she had better practice in keeping them contained despite how hard it could be sometimes. She held onto all her patience but replied a little too firmly,

"They are burns, Mi'Lady."

Sansa flushed as sheheard the girl's words, and slowly realized how awful she must have sounded. She sat in silence for a while as she allowed Abaigael to run the brush through her red locks.

"How did you get them? The burns?"

Abaigael inhaled again before patiently replying that it was nothing but a servants' task that caused them. The lady persisted however, "And that _is_?" she'd said.

"I cannot say, Mi'Lady. I fear my mistress would be rather vexed if I did."

Sansa gave a slight nod in assurance before asking, "Is it-is it a kind of punishment?"

"In a way."

Two more strokes with the brush, "I'm sorry."

Pause.

Abaigael's hand froze, her gaze softened as her previous anger was almost entirely replaced by confusion. But she said what came to mind after, "Thank you."

* * *

The royal couple spent some time showing the Clegane girls around. Breena occasionally throwing the young king flirtatious glances when she thought the Queen wasn't looking. She was though, and was not the least bit pleased with the girl's "affections" towards _her _husband. The elder sister tried her best to remain calm and stoic as ever, but found herself feel embarrassed for having to witness her own sister's indiscretions-which the king seemed to not mind at all.

When the topic veered to the duties and accomplishments of the present wartime, Casidhe attempted to sneak Queen Margaery apologetic looks when Breena's doting became particularly tiresome.

"How do you plan to celebrate, Your Grace, when your impending victory has come to pass?"

"I'll have a great feast." He smiled, "It'll last days and I'll have those Northern bastards' heads hung up as decorations."

"I hope, Your Grace, _I _am welcome to attend your grand feast?"

"Of course." He said, "Would you be doing anything else but celebrating the destruction of the Northern Rebellion?"

"Nothing else, Your Grace." She gushed, "And I consider it the highest honor to receive an invitation from the King himself."

"Your Grace." Casidhe interrupted, "I've heard so many wonderful things about the palace gardens. Would your majesties be so gracious as to show them to us?"

"I agree, my love." Margaery said, "We've shown them all over the palace but it might due us some good to seek refuge in the fresh air. My grandmother has sent us roses all the way from Highgardens to us and they are in such bloom."

"Are they, Your Grace?" The Queen nodded to her as she turned back to the King, "Then I would very much like to see them."

Joffrey shrugged, somewhat annoyed by the request, "Do what you wish." He turned to Breena, "Do you wish to see the flowers?"

"Whatever pleases _you, _My King."

He smiled, more so when he caught the disapproving looks from Casidhe and his wife, "I'm going to show Lady Clegane more of the palace. You may show the other the gardens if you please.

Joffrey offered his arm to Breena, who went away with him looking slightly smugger than usual. Casidhe was very reluctant to leave Breena alone with the King and Queen Margaery seemed to share the same thoughts. However, her feelings towards the situation were less fear and more agitation. When they entered the gardens she expressed some of it,

"Your sister seems to have taken a liking to the King, Lady Casidhe."

"Yes." She replied, "I hope you don't think ill of her for it. My sister is sometimes a little, shameless, with her attentions to those she likes. But she means no harm, Your Grace."

"Do you really think that?"

Casidhe hesitated, "Yes. Breena simply doesn't know her limitations sometimes."

"Perhaps she does not wish to." Margaery smiled at the girl's stoic calm, "I have a brother, Loras, who used to behave similarly. He still does from time to time. He's learned some propriety now though, and look at him: he's the king's own stepfather."

"I've heard many good things about your brother."

"Of course you have, he's a very good man." She said, still smiling, "I love him very much, as any sister does. We spent our lives protecting each other-and we still do. I understand you want to protect your own sibling, but speaking as one sister to another: find a better way to do so."

The women stopped, Margaery giving Casidhe a stern and knowing look, "It's not enough to find excuses for indiscretions. You need to make certain that they are contained, for everyone's sake."

* * *

"Does my lady tire so soon?"

"Of course not, Your Grace." Breena smiled, "I could go days seeing such wonders. The war has not touched the palace's grand appearance."

"It's good you think so." Joffrey said, "I want all my guests happy."

"I'm ecstatic simply being near you, Your Grace."

Intrigued by her wording he pressed, "Are you?"

She smiled, her eyes lowered in something skin to mock-humility, "Yes, Your Grace. I'm a little embarrassed to admit I was always quite fond of your descriptions growing up."

"Why does that embarrass you?" He asked, "Do they not please you now?"

Breena's eyes caught his again, both of them smiling suggestively, "No, Your Grace. They please me now more than ever."

* * *

"Why do you still tow around your husband's bastard? Why not throw her out on the streets like you wanted?"

Lady Clegane shrugged, sipping her wine, "It's bad luck to ignore the final requests of a dying man." She added ruefully, "Remind me though, little sister, what _did _I expect of a man whose house sigil is a cock?"

Cersei only smiled, a mimicking smile of Theraesa's knowing glances from earlier. They both chuckled as Lady Theraesa recalled, "Oh yes. Aaron certainly was a handsome man. You could spend hours looking into those deep, deep brown orbs."

The woman looked lost in memory, until she sneered out, "Pity the little bitch didn't get them instead of her mother's eyes. Might make her a bit more tolerable."

"She's making you bitter, old friend."

"Some grow bitter others grow wrinkles. I'm happier for my lot in life."

*~*_8 Years Prior_*~*

Lady Theraesa grinned happily as she saw her husband's banners approaching through the bedroom window. She practically ran out into the hallways and found her ten-year-old daughters bickering. Casidhe attempting to run away from a little curly-haired Breena, who continued to tug mercilessly at her golden-ribbon laced braid.

"Mama! She won't leave me alone!"

"She took my ribbon! Mama that's _my ribbon_!" Breena screamed.

"It's mine you thief, it's all mine!"

"Girls stop it!" Theraesa said firmly, "Do you want your father to come home to immature screaming. I think he'd be very disappointed not to find the little ladies he'd left."

Immediately Casidhe straightened, "_I'll _show Papa I'm a _good girl!"_ Then stuck her tongue out at Breena, who returned the gesture.

Theraesa gently slapped her on the back in effort to make Casidhe go. She turned to her younger daughter with a firm look.

"Will you be a good girl, Breena?" Breena scowled, "Otherwise, I'm afraid your father wont' have any presents for you."

"I wish Papa would bring me a new sister!" She ran off to join Casidhe, leaving her exasperated mother behind her.

Soon enough, Theraesa followed her girls down the stone steps and raced to the front doors where they waited. After some final primping they allowed the servants to open the doors wide for them. The three ladies stepped outside just in time to see Lord Swyft and his entourage stop right at the steps of the estate. Lady Theraesa was so happy at the sight of her beloved, copper-haired husband you could hear a small giggle escape her lips in excitement.

It would end in a moment when she noticed the small, blonde child riding with Lord Aaron on his horse. Her smile fell and she looked rather flustered, then confused, and finally her pretty face was set into a frown.

She ran over to take a closer look, and was met with the big, wide green eyes of a little girl with a disturbing resemblance to her husband. He sat upon his steed allowing this strange child to cling to his chest and had placed an almost… protective hand atop her head.

Lady Theraesa's eyes hardened, and her voice wavered as she said, "My love, who is this?"

He looked at her sympathetically, stating firmly, "She is my daughter."

Theraesa's mouth began to hang slightly, and she looked ready to respond when a small voice cried,

"Papa brought me a sister!"

"Breena quiet!" she yelled.

The little girl in the man's arms squirmed and squeaked in fear, curling herself up further into her father's chest. He curled his fingers in her hair, giving his wife a scolding look.

"Shh, it's alright." He turned to the man on his left, "Ser Polleck, take the girls to the garden and remain until your lady and I tell you otherwise."

"Right My Lord." The brawny dark-haired man said, "Come on, lass."

The girl squeaked again and looked nervously at Lord Aaron, gripping the edges of his cloak tighter in her little pale hands.

"It's alright Abaigael, Casidhe and Breena are your sisters. Go on and play with them, I'll join you later."

Abaigael reluctantly let go of her father and allowed Ser Polleck to lead her towards the two eager little girls by the steps. Lady Clegane looked disgustedly at the young bastard as she joined her own daughters with Ser Polleck. The look of adoration on Lord Swyft's face was only eclipsed by the one of hate on his lady's. No words were spoken as they drifted up the staircase, and closed the door behind the, as they entered their private study.

"Tell me she's nine." Theraesa said, looking into the fireplace.

"What?"

"_Tell me she's nine._" Her voice quivered, "Tell me that for the eight years we've been married, despite the little _bastard _you've brought here that you've never betrayed me. Never betrayed me like the man whose only gift to me were those beautiful girls who _you said were enough for you!_ Tell me she's nine!"

He sighed, "I cannot."

"Then tell me she's eight. Some men stray when it's the last night before marriage, they do things they regret. Tell me she's the product of that. Tell me that." She whimpered when he hesitated, "Please…"

"She's seven."

Finally she let out a cry and sank to the floor, her husband's arms wrapping around her.

"How could you do this? Why is she _here!?"_ She screamed.

"Her mother is dead. I cannot leave her in the care of a brothel, she is my daughter-"

"No she's not!" Lady Clegane screamed again, "She is nothing more than a bastard! She's bad luck! She belongs with the rest of those whores!"

The slap rang out before she could even process the pain. She held her cheek and looked at him in surprised defiance.

"You will not speak of her like that." His voice quivering, "I brought her here to live because she is my daughter, and I will not leave her to the whims of lusting lords and commoners who can afford it. I'll gladly die before I do."

Once he left the room, Theraesa rose to her feet, walking over to the window overlooking the garden. She saw something that absolutely disgusted her, and made her blood boil with a quiet rage.

Her proper young girls, pristine as silver and gold, were playing with the little girl her husband and spawned. They were laughing and dancing together, holding hands like they were equal, as if that little blonde bastard had the right.

* * *

*~*_Present_*~*

"Aye, I've seen him. General Snow, the bastard of the North." Jeremiah gave a teasing look to River, "_A tall and handsome man_."

She gently swatted him over the head with a happy smile as the group laughed. Lady Clegane's servants had all piled into the kitchens for a good meal that the palace servants had been kind enough to aid in the preparation of, especially when asked to join the surprisingly feast-like dinner of boiled potatoes and cabbage. River ate little, spending most of her time pacing around the food, but would grab a bit of someone else's diner when she started to feel a low growl in her stomach.

"Abaigael didn't seem to think so." She said, "Too busy lookin' at that wolf."

"New men always scared little Abby, it's nothing to think twice on." Timon said, scarping the remaining bits of his potatoes with a large piece of cabbage, "But what in the Seven's name is that beast doing 'ere anyway? I thought his Grace would turn it into a rug instead of a houseguest."

"And 'e would if it were up to 'im!"

Timon and Jeremiah looked at one another as the latter asked, "Whose it up to if not him? Has it been an early day for the bottle Cruster?"

Evan Cruster scowled, "I heard 'im, meself!" The palace cook exclaimed, "Snow insisted on bringin' the animal if 'e couldn't bring 'is own party of men in arms."

"It's true." Emma said, "His Grace was roaring about it for days, I heard."

"He takes after his mother's house words it seems."

The whole pack turned their heads to see Abaigael and Shae coming through the door, Abaigael holding a piece of indistinguishable red cloth in her hand. They all smiled and raised a hand or bottle in greeting. She ran over to hug each of them and smiled sweetly until she saw River, standing over Cruster and biting down on a piece of potato she'd taken from his plate, Abaigael gave her a warning look.

"Sit down now." She said, handing Shae the red fabric and taking the serving bowl from her friend, "You're going to make yourself sick."

"You're not my mother!" The girl answered, sitting down as Abaigael placed a full plate of food in front of her.

"I might as well be if you keep doing this to yourself."

"Bai, what are the Stark's colors again? I can't remember."

River rolled her eyes at the request, knowing that Timon probably _did _remember but just wanted Abaigael to talk to him. The girl gave River a look then smiled kindly at him, "Grey and Black, house sigil is a-"

"A direwolf we know!" Jeremiah said, "We know these already. You've said 'em so many time I could sing 'em all in my sleep. Fishes are Tullys, Greyjoys are birds, Martells are-"

"A Kracken." She said shyly.

"Yes them." He shrugged, "Timon here just-"

"I meant, _Greyjoys _have the Kraken." He gave her an annoyed look, "Sorry."

"Where did you learn all this?" Shae asked, sitting beside Timon and Jeremiah.

Abaigael let an almost proud smile slip out, "My father taught me."

"How did he know?"

Timon leaned in, "Her father was a lord." Shae's eyes widened a little, "Lady Clegane's own husband actually. The second one, not the first."

Abaigael confirmed with a nod, "He wanted me educated about all the lords and ladies he grew up with. Wanted to show me all their lands one day."

Shae quirked her lips into a small smile, "He sounds like a good man."

"He was." Then she became excited as a particular memory filled her mind, "When I was coming to live with him at his estate, he took me to see a festival just outside the villages of Casterly Rock. I was so nervous about joining the dancing I refused to go without him. He only sighed once before picking me up in his arms and spinning us both around and around until we both fell down in a fit of laughter."

Cruster laughed, "Must 'ave been a real treat for the eyes. Seeing some great lord behave like that."

"Behave like what? A father?" Shae snapped, then turned her attention back to Abaigael, "Go ahead."

She blushed, "This went on for a little while, until I had begun to dance so much I'd forgotten about my father, whot waited until I was ready to stand aside and watch."

The table went silent, smiling and nodding as she recalled the sweet little story, until Timon went, "Big mistake. If I were 'im I'd never be dumb enough to stop dancing with a pretty girl."

"And if ya passed a whore as fast as ya passed a Septon, you'd be betta' off." River remarked.

"But if I did, I'd never get to spend any time with you darling."

Once again a laugh rang out among the servants, except Shae.

* * *

When most of the servants left for bed or to assist in late-night requests from the palace residents, Abaigael sat by the fireside sewing the dress she'd brought in earlier. She was pressed up against the warm stones framing the fire, her heels absentmindedly hanging off the side of the bench-like front of the warm pyre.

Lady Clegane didn't know it, and probably wouldn't have cared anyway, but the reason for her constantly ashen face was due to similar nightly habits she'd formed at the Clegane House. The lady would constantly demand a chore from the girl and would fill her days with menial to hard labors, and by the end of the night insisted on her finishing some mending or embroidery for her by morning.

When she took the work set for her down to the servants' quarters, everyone would already be in their cots asleep and the fire would be put out. However, there were usually some embers keeping the stone fireside warm. That's where she decided it was best to do her work on a chilly night. And she would sew and sew, her little fingers aching but determined, until she could not keep her eyes open any longer and fell asleep beside the dark, ashen stones of the fireplace. In the morning her face would be completely covered in black dust, and if she forgot herself she'd be severely scolded by Lady Clegane before being commanded to wash her face.

Tonight was fairly pleasant though, for she couldn't really remember the last time she'd been able to sew by a roaring fire. In fact, the most recent memory she had was weaving a healing wheel for her ill mother at age 6. The other women said only a mother could make one for her child and not the child for the mother. But the sweet woman, Alais, told her daughter that if it pleased her the gods would make it work. Lady Clegane reminded Abaigael of her mother in a way (She'd never admit it though), for both women were very superstitious only in different ways.

When Abaigael became Lady Clegane's handmaid, the woman told her not to look her in the eyes because when a bastard looks you in the eyes they steal your soul. The story frightened the little girl so much she refused to look at _anyone _for weeks and wanted to blindfold herself for the rest of her life. One of the servants assured her the superstition wasn't true, but even after calming from the tale she obeyed Lady Clegane and kept her eyes lowered.

Her mother on the other hand, was a very cheerful and positive person. "Always look for the blessings in curses" she'd tell her. Anything that common people told her was bad luck, she said it was good luck, and rarely ever took anything as a bad omen.

She liked her mother's attitude despite all that had happened to her, but found it hard to uphold her beliefs after her death. Especially with what happened that night in the palace.

Shae and Abaigael had been walking to the servants' quarters after helping Lady Sansa get ready for bed. After the awkward moment with the note she slipped Shae, things had indeed turned for the better. She liked the Lady Sansa and Shae as well, for both had shown her understanding and welcomed her there.

"Would you like to help me tomorrow?" Shae asked.

"I don't know-I love to, don't get me wrong." She assured, "But I have to help my-the Lady Clegane's daughters, and of course Lady Clegane herself."

"Of course." Shae nodded, "Call them your sisters. I know that's what you were about to say."

"It wouldn't be proper."

"They're your sisters. So fuck propriety."

Just then, as they came strolling by the king's chambers, Breena Clegane came stumbling out. Both Abaigael and Shae were frozen, but Abaigael especially, she knew her sister well but never in a thousand lifetimes could she have imagined Breena would go this far. The girl had been laughing, and poorly tying the strings of a robe that left nothing to the imagination of what she'd been doing in the king's chambers.

She turned to the girls, still smiling and ran up to hug Abaigael, falling over herself a little. When Breena had wrapped her flailing arms around her, Abaigael could smell wine and knew her sister was currently drunk.

"Abby I've had the best night! You wouldn't believe it!"

"No I don't think I would." She murmured.

"Then I'll have to tell you all about it! Come on, I'll pour you some wine and we'll talk about it."

"My lady you must rest." Shae said, helping Abaigael carry her sister back to her room.

The managed to make it there in time for Breena to calm down, though it became harder to lug her as she became less mobile. They opened the door to the guest room, allowing Breena to go free and slowly walk inside. Abaigael stopped Shae from entering, "Please, go on ahead. I'll take care of her."

"I'll wait outside. That is all."

Abaigael nodded and went inside to find Breena spread out on her bed, still smiling with her eyes half shut. She went to fetch her sister's nightgown and saw the somewhat sarcastic look on Breena's face.

"I know you don't approve Abby." She said, trying to sit up, "But I'm doing all this for you and Cas, I promise."

"Here, let me help you change-"

"No listen first!" She said, "I'm his favorite now. He won't want his wife again after me, and I know he won't send me North like his stupid mother wants!" She began to giggle, "Best part. I plan to tell him that-*hiccup*-that not even Cas is to be sent there."

"Breena please-"

"No! You please!" She stumbled, barely able to side the dress over her head before tripping onto her bed again, "I don't want to leave here. But I won't go back with mother. I'll stay here with you and Cas, have us all happy in the palace. We'll never have to hear from her foul moods or kiss her ass like she wants again!"

Breena yawned as Abaigael pulled the covers down for her, her voice getting lower and her eyes slowly closing.

"I just want… I just want us…" She yawned again.

"Shh, I know." Abaigael said, gently covering her, "I'll see you in the morning."

"I love you Ab-" Suddenly she was fast asleep. Abaigael let out a tiny chuckle at the interruption and held her big sister's hand in comfort.

"I love you too." She smiled at Breena's sleeping form, than slowly walked away. She hung up the robe and found her sister's red dress from this morning beside it, slightly torn in some places.

Now she sat by the fireplace sewing it back to its original beauty, worrying about what Breena had done and how she could save her from its consequences. Perhaps she would return to her senses in the morning.

Abaigael prayed and prayed all night to the gods that her sister would be let out of her predicament, whatever it takes. She prayed that she could help her sister and give her what she desires, and the same for Casidhe too.

She prayed for peace to finally come into their lives. She thought long and hard about the prayers as she let her own eyes lower and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
